


Living in Color

by isquinnabel



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, Gen, The Capitol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isquinnabel/pseuds/isquinnabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of nine drabbles chronicling Effie Trinket’s vibrant, colorful life in the glamorous shadow of the Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OzQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/gifts).



> Happy ~~hunger games~~ fandom stocking, ozqueen!  <3

  
**Red**  
Effie vividly remembers the booming waves of the words, amplified over surging crowds. _War, terrible war…_

She was too young for the concepts of “remembering our past” or “safeguarding our future” to have any concrete meaning. However, the words themselves sounded terribly impressive and kindled her first experience of a pleasant feeling that, years later, she learned was called _awe_.

She looks back fondly on her childhood Games Seasons as a time of giddy excitement and lengthy sugar-highs. Every day was a celebration: wine flowed freely in the streets while bloodstains tainted the arena, and life itself seemed to sparkle. 

  
**Orange**  
Kindling a friendship with Agrippina Pollyon marked a turning-point in Effie’s life. 

It was widely known that Agrippina’s father was a mere handful of years away from promotion to Head Gamemaker. When she was fifteen, Effie found herself invited to join the Pollyons in their VIP seating at none other than the Opening Ceremony of the Second Quarter Quell! It was tremendously exciting and, for the occasion, her mother allowed her to buy her very first wig. 

To this day a framed photo of Effie on that momentous night, sporting a glittering orange wig, hangs proudly above the Trinkets’ fireplace. 

  
**Yellow**  
Effie’s first Games Season as an Escort was simultaneously the best and worst period of her life. 

The glamor of the Games circuit was everything she’d dreamed: luxury fabrics, endless banquets, and Avoxes on hand for every minor trifle. It was a golden life, one that perfectly suited Effie’s tastes. 

The stress, however, was horrendous. District 12 had timid, lackluster tributes; a low public profile; and, of course, the sole Mentor was that ghastly Haymitch. 

Immediately after a blonde cherub from District 1 was crowned Victor, Effie was soaking her troubles away in lemon-meringue scented bathwater. 

She’d absolutely earned it. 

  
**Green**  
En route to Reapings, Effie never bothered to look out the window. It was identical every year: endless green. Not a dignified green, like Octavia’s new skin tone; not a dramatic green, like last month’s coveted iris designs. It was a dull, drab view and she simply didn’t care for it. 

Effie, a lifelong student of fashion, was well aware that natural hues came in and out of style. She knew that when earth-tones were in vogue, she would grow to adore all sorts of out-in-the-Districts colors. 

But not today. Effie snapped the blinds shut, admiring their brand-new, intricate embossing. 

  
**Blue**  
“Oh, for heaven’s _sake_ , Haymitch!” 

She fixed him with her coldest glare, made particularly intimidating with icy makeup. 

“I work myself to _death_ during Games Seasons to present District 12 favorably, and you won’t even lift a finger!” 

Haymitch groaned, fumbling blindly for a new glass. 

“I endure sleepless nights for your Tributes – _our_ Tributes – and sometimes I can’t help but wonder why I bother!” 

“Please,” slurred Haymitch. “You wouldn’t recognize a real sleepless night in the Games if it minced around naked in your powder-blue wig.” 

He half-heartedly threw a silver fork at her. 

“Get outta my face, Trinket.” 

  
**Indigo**  
The first Tribute Effie truly felt she could sell was a sixteen-year-old girl with great big doe-eyes. 

“Oh, _Darling_ ,” Effie would enthuse. “Those eyes! You have no _idea_ what people would pay a surgeon to simulate that exact shade. Not quite blue, not exactly purple… oh, you’re _beyond_ divine!” 

The girl never responded as appreciatively as Effie would’ve liked, but she held her own during the pre-Game. Effie’s hopes were sky-high. 

Then, she was bludgeoned to death at the Cornucopia. Killed in the first few minutes by the boy from District 2. 

“Such a shame,” Effie sighed afterwards. “Those _eyes_!” 

  
**Violet**  
In ancient times, purple had been considered the color of royalty.

As far as Effie was concerned, it still was. She wore shades of violet whenever she wanted to come across as imperious and confident, inherently deserving of people’s attention. 

This was how she dressed once her two Tributes were among the finalists in the 74th Games. 

She attended galas upon galas, entertaining crowds with tidbits of information about her Tributes’ little love affair. She played the game skillfully, subtly directing deep-pocket sponsors towards Haymitch. 

Effie adjusted her wig. The Games weren’t over yet, and she had plenty to do. 

  
**White**  
Effie laughed, a vibrant butterfly against a backdrop of wedding dresses. 

“The ivory silk with the beaded bodice is my favorite, Caesar,” she gushed. “Wouldn’t Katniss look just _heavenly_ in it? Of course, she’d look like an angel in _any_ option, but that’s the design I’m voting for.” 

Caesar winked. “Come now, Effie, this is a devious ploy for votes! You know I prefer the taffeta!” 

“Why, Caesar!” Effie playfully swatted his hand. “Such accusations!” 

The background image changed to show her Victors, hand-in-hand. At the sight of them, Effie’s affectionate smile was absolutely genuine. 

“Now, about those wedding plans…”

  
 **Black**  
Effie felt, for the first time in her life, a mixture of cold anger and terrible, terrible sadness. 

Her Victors, her dear little Victors, would return to the arena. She’d nearly been overcome by the reality of it during the Reaping, and had barely managed to keep herself under control. 

Her little team had already fought for their lives. They’d suffered horribly in the arena, and earned the right to live a pampered, luxurious life. They _loved_ each other. 

She closed her eyes, hyperaware of how swiftly this train was delivering her Victors to certain death. 

They didn’t deserve this. 


End file.
